


(Music) makes the bourgeoisie and the rebel

by cherryvanilla



Category: The Social Network (2010)
Genre: College, Drunkenness, House Party, M/M, Meet-Cute, Mistaken Identity, Thunderstorms
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-02-03
Updated: 2021-02-03
Packaged: 2021-03-14 10:41:59
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,467
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29169780
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/cherryvanilla/pseuds/cherryvanilla
Summary: In which drunk Divya Narendra finds himself in a Not Quite Cinderella Story featuring a house party, a thunderstorm, and a hoodie.(For the prompts "drunk" and "thunderstorm", natch.)
Relationships: Divya Narendra/Cameron Winklevoss
Comments: 10
Kudos: 20
Collections: The Prompt Network





	(Music) makes the bourgeoisie and the rebel

**Author's Note:**

> Epic thanks to phonecallfromgod for beta and catching my glaring characterization mistake and supporting me as I attempted to rectify it. 
> 
> [Here's](https://open.spotify.com/playlist/1sXSNWWGvmpel7dgbmIMI4?si=iAl7RtktTZqr4ei_e3zTUQ) a mix featuring a sampling of what was was being played at this party, as well as cover art of the building's featured in the fic. 
> 
> Title from Madonna.

_September 2000_

On the night of his very first college party, Divya Narendra gets speculatively drunk. He’d been surprised when his roommate had mentioned a “It’s Fall Y’all” themed party that Currier’s Ten Men was throwing. Divya had heard rumors that finding parties was sometimes difficult and being as it wasn’t totally his scene anyway he hadn’t paid it much mind. But when in Rome and all that. 

His parents would be less than impressed to learn that their hard earned money has enabled such behavior, but Divya had been valedictorian of his senior class, as well as president, so he figures he deserved the right to engage in normal undergrad delinquency.

The common area is packed with bodies and Divya has heard the same Madonna song at least twice now. (Apparently Music _does_ make the people come together.) 

He’s heading (stumbling) up the carpeted staircase, hoping to find the bathroom, when he rounds the corner and hits something that is as immovable as a closed door.

Divya pulls back, squinting up at someone he can only categorize as Tall, Blonde, and Fuckable. 

“Whoa there,” Tall Fuckable Blonde says, his (huge) hands steading Divya’s shoulders. “You alright, bud?”

 _Ugh_ , he thinks _frat boy_. “Ugh,” he says. 

The guy laughs. “That good, huh?” His hair is floppy and it makes him look like some over grown puppy. That Divya absolutely wants to pet.

“I was looking for the bathroom,” Divya mumbles. 

“Oh! It’s right this way.” 

Beefy, Blonde, and Huge (apparently, he has a few more adjectives to describe this guy in him) guides him to it and Divya grunts out his thanks. 

After he’s pissed and splashed some water on his face he blearily opens the door. The Greek statue is still there, leaning back against the wall with one knee bent. Is he... stretching? 

“Hey, man. S’all yours.” He waves at the bathroom door when the guy looks up.

“Oh, I don’t need it. Figured I’d make sure you didn’t drown in there.” 

Divya scowls. “I might not be Super-Sized, but I can handle myself.”

The guy quirks one eyebrow. “You sure? Because you seem pretty inebriated.” 

“What is that? Inebr—inebriabated? Who talks like that?”

Tall, Hot and Jacked shrugs. “I suppose I do.”

“Do you come to parties just to judge others or do you actually drink?”

“I do, but it takes a lot to get me drunk.” 

Divya hums and realizes they’re walking down the stairs, the guy behind him, one hand hovering over the small of his back. 

They reach the bottom and Divya turns to him. “Hey, thanks, I’m gonna —“ he waves to the door in front of them. “Take off.” His roommate totally bailed him shortly after they got here, hooking up with some tiny redhead and now Creed is playing and there’s only so much Divya can take. 

He opens the door to pouring rain.

“Motherfuck.”

Divya has nothing besides his orange and brown flannel, in an attempt to fit with the Fall Y’all theme. The weather was still relatively mild and there hadn’t been a cloud in the sky when he’d left earlier. 

“Oh,” he hears behind him. 

Divya stumbles out the door, stopping just under the overhang as he looks up in betrayal. 

“You’re going to get drenched.”

Big, Blonde and Beautiful is now standing next to him, stripping off his grey Harvard hoodie (is that his idea of ‘fall’?), and leaving only a black t-shirt. “Here.”

Divya stares at the piece of clothing being offered out to him. “What?”

He pushes it into Divya’s hand. “You’re going to put this on and I’m going to walk you back to your dorm.” 

“That’s ridic-u-lous. Not to mention _you’ll_ get all.” He waves at the rain. Words are becoming increasingly difficult. 

“Uh-huh.” The guy laughs. “It’s fine, I like water. “

“You are so _weird_ ,” Divya complains, but he still puts the sweater on, flipping the hood up and pulling on the strings to fit it closer around him. The sleeves are ridiculously big, hanging down over his hands. It smells really good though. 

The guy seems completely satisfied as he says, “Perfect, let’s go.”

They don’t run, exactly, but they definitely move fast, Divya’s world spinning a bit. He’s also tucked under this giant’s arm like some damsel in distress. 

Naturally, the sky flashes with lightning and then there’s a crash thunder. 

“Wonderful,” Divya mutters. The guy picks up the pace a little faster. “Do you even know where we’re going?” 

“I’m following you!”

“I’m _drunk!_ Divya shouts just as another roll of thunder sound. 

The guy _laughs_ of all things and Divya is soaking through the damn hoodie but it’s still not as bad as it would’ve been in only his flannel. 

“I’m in Thayer.”

“That is _not_ close, but lucky for us we’re going in the right direction.”

They finally make it there, up the cobblestone steps and under the cover of the entrance way. Divya has to lean against the building’s heavy door to catch his breath. He can’t believe he hasn’t thrown up yet. 

“Are you going to be okay from here?” A firm, wet hand squeezes his shoulder. The nearby lamp post bathes his Adonis in an unnatural glow and between that and finally being able to really, truly _look_ at him, Divya cannot be responsible for what he does next. Or, what he tries to do next. 

He stands on his toes, pushes up and forward and ends up with his lips sort of skimming his savior’s throat, landing near his collarbone and tasting wet fabric. 

“Whoa,” the guy says, steading Divya back on his heels again. 

Okay, then. 

“Right, g’night.” He manages to pull out his key from his jeans and open the door as the guy is apologizing for some reason and saying, “A you sure you’re okay? Wait, I don’t even know your—“ 

And then he’s inside the door and somehow doesn’t vomit before making it to his room, but totally does once inside. 

And that’s his first college party.  
________________________ 

The next day, Divya wakes to a pounding headache and his clothes sticking to his body. 

“Lovely.”

It all slowly comes back to him. The rain, the hoodie, the _frat boy_. 

Divya is 90% sure he tried to kiss his knight in shining armor, and either missed horribly or the guy pulled away. Either way, it all sounds incredibly embarrassing. 

He strips off the hoodie and studies it, feels an urge to return it, see this guy again. He’s probably asking for trouble, but he’s also stubborn as hell when he gets his mind set on something. 

So Divya does laundry that day, washing away the smell of rain water and folding the hoodie along with his boxers and Henleys. 

Now to somehow find this guy again.

On Sunday he takes it with him to Annenberg and vaguely looks around, mostly hoping the guy would spot him first. 

When Monday rolls along, it occurs to Divya that his White Knight could seek him out if he truly wanted his hoodie back, seeing as he knows Divya’s dorm. 

It does not bode well for this ending in anything other than disaster, but Divya still people watches more than he usually does as he walks around campus, to and from classes, in and out of dining halls. 

On Tuesday Divya goes to Holyoke, needing to use the ATM and figuring he’ll just eat at the food court before his next class. He’s heading inside toward Panda Express when he sees Big, Broad, and Built in line for Subway. 

Divya swallows hard; he wishes he had the hoodie on him, but carrying it around had made him feel a little too much like Prince Charming looking for his Cinderella. 

He walks over, taps the guy on the shoulder. He’s got earbuds in and this time his hair is slicked back. Divya preferred it the other way, to be honest. The guy looks down at him in surprise, before quirking one eyebrow.

“Hey. Um, hey man, listen. Thanks for the other night, that was kind of cool of you.” 

The guy frowns. “I’m not sure I know what you’re talking about.”

And oh okay, he’s either confusing all big, white, beefy blondes with one another (which, granted, easy) or this dude _really_ hated the almost kiss that Divya is now 95% sure he’d turned away from, and is willing to sacrifice his $40 Harvard hoodie for it. 

“Right, okay.”

He turns on his heel, no longer hungry. 

“Hey dude, relax yourself, it’s probably—”

But he’s got no real interest in what it probably is, and stops listening as he briskly walks out of the building.  
_______________________

By that Friday Divya has licked his wounds enough that he decides he might as well reap the benefits of his not so meet cute.

So he wears the hoodie to his last class. He’s leaving the building to head back to Thayer before dinner when, while looking down to fish out his keys, he bumps into Tall, Blonde, and (Sadly) Still Fuckable. 

“Seriously?”

The guy’s face, inexplicably, breaks into a grin. “Hi!” Then he looks down at Divya. “Is that -- are you wearing Ty’s hoodie?” 

“Yeah, well, you were a dick so I’ve repurposed it. Wait -- who the hell is Ty? This isn’t even yours?” 

“A dick? I escorted you home!” 

“Escorted? Have we suddenly entered a Jane Austen novel? And you didn’t answer the question. Are you seriously attempting to claim chivalry on a stolen sweater?” 

The guy groans into his hand “It isn’t _stolen_ , it’s just my brother’s. He said I wear too many vests and going to the Fall themed party in a hoodie would be, I quote, cozy. Personally, they aren’t my thing.” 

Divya stares at him blankly. “Okay, look, I’m already bored of this conversation. My original point stands: yes, you helped me back to my dorm and then you pretended you didn’t know me so hence: a dick.” 

“Hence?” The guy snorts. “And uh, no I didn’t. I haven’t even seen you since that night. Although I was actually uh, about to head over to your dorm to see if you wanted to get dinner. I would have sooner, but it’s been a crazy week.”

Divya crosses his arms over his chest, the sleeves bunching up in ridiculous fashion, ignoring the last part of that sentence (despite it making his stomach flip) and focusing on the outright lie. “Really, you haven’t seen me? So that _wasn’t_ you about to ‘Eat Fresh’ at Subway the other day.”

The guy frowns. “No, I don’t even like— oh. _Oh_. You must’ve seen Ty. Tyler. My brother -- my _twin_ brother. He’s addicted to that stuff, I keep telling him it’s not as healthy as he thinks. And also he never remembers to tell me shit like this.”

Divya puts his hands on his hips, but the stupid sleeves fall down his even more and he can’t get a good bitch stance on in this dumb, oversized thing. So he crosses them over his chest again. “Your twin. That’s what you’re going with? You can just tell me ‘no homo’, man, it’s cool.” 

“Oh my god,” the guy mutters, before digging into the back pocket of his jeans and producing his wallet. He flips it open with a flick of the wrist before pulling out a photo from under the plastic. 

It’s of four people, ostensibly. Divya supposes it _would_ be weirder if this guy carried around a double exposure of himself and his parents rather than what is apparently his parents and his twin brother. 

“You walk around with a 2x4 family portrait in your wallet?” 

Cameron shrugs. “I’m close to them.”

“Well, yeah, I’m close to my family too but there are limits, man.”

The guy throws his head back in a laugh. “Are you always this bitchy?”

“It’s entirely possible.” Divya’s lips curve upward. 

The guy smiles back. “I like it.”

He feels his cheeks go hot. “Alright let’s start this over. Divya Narendra. When I’m not getting wasted at parties, I’m reading up on music theory and watching old movies.”

The guy holds his hand out. “Cameron Winklevoss. When I’m not rescuing drunkards at parties, I’m rowing crew with my non-fictional twin brother.” 

Divya shakes his (big, still so big) hand. A shiver runs through him. “Of course you are.” 

Cameron pauses. “And watching rom coms.”

“Okay, wasn’t expecting that.” 

They grin dumbly at each other. 

Then he remembers something. “Oh my god, I’m wearing your twin’s hoodie.” He looks down at himself. “And I thought it _smelled_ nice, that night of the party” 

Cameron laughs, rubbing the back of his neck. “Um, actually, that was all me. Tyler doesn’t wear cologne.” 

“Oh.” Divya clears his throat. “Well, since we’re on the subject. Just to put my mind at ease and then we can move on and never speak of this again: did I miss kissing due to a combination of my drunken stupor and the fact that you’re nine feet tall, or did you purposely move out of the way?”

Cameron blushes. “A little of both? Your aim was totally off, but I also moved. Not um, because I didn’t want to. I just didn’t want to while you were drunk.” 

“Oh.”

“Yeah.”

And then they’re grinning at each other again, shyly, like this is one of Cameron’s stupid rom coms.

Divya shifts from one foot to the next. “Hey, Cam?” 

Cam smiles brilliantly. “Yeah… Div?” 

Divya rolls his eyes, laughing even as a tingle runs up his spine. “I’m not so drunk now.”

“No. You aren’t.”

He lets Cam push him back against the stone pillar that’s across from the building’s entrance. The place is pretty deserted right now since it’s 4pm on a Friday and Divya’s the only person he knows who even scheduled Friday classes. Cameron bends to meet his mouth. 

Cam’s lips are really, really soft. Like he moisturizes. He probably does. It makes Divya groan and deepen the kiss, his tongue slipping past his lips. Cameron gasps quietly, pressing in closer. 

“I really was planning to take you to dinner first.”

Divya tugs at his bottom lip. “It’s cool, you’re just skipping to dessert.” 

“That’s awful,” Cam mutters against his lips, before kissing him again, languid and slow.

Cam’s hands are fisted in the hoodie when they break apart again. “You really need to get out of my brother’s shirt.”

“Mm. Well, then, make good on your promise for food,” Divya says, kissing his jaw before pressing up onto his toes to reach his ear. “And I’ll see what I can do about that.”

Cam pulls back, smiling. “You’ve got a deal.” 

Alright, so maybe Divya’s first college party wasn’t so bad. 

The End


End file.
